


I've Got My Love To Keep Me Warm

by Shazrolane



Series: We'll Meet Again [1]
Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes-centric, Hypothermia, M/M, POV Bucky Barnes, Sergeant Bucky Barnes of the 107th, soldier!Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 18:50:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4148943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shazrolane/pseuds/Shazrolane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Memories of Brooklyn and Steve and warmth</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've Got My Love To Keep Me Warm

**Author's Note:**

> [I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hs4AUuZ9TKk) Billie Holliday  
> 

Bucky shivered in his military issued coat, but kept his scope steady as he scanned the bombed out buildings of the village. He’d lost track of where they were days ago, other than somewhere in Italy. Besides, that wasn’t his job.

Right now, his job was to watch for any enemy movements while the rest of the 107th tried to get some shuteye. And so here he was, freezing his balls off in the shell of an apartment building. He put his rifle down and stuffed his hands into his armpits to try to warm them up, even just a little. 

God, he’d complained when Steve had done that to him. He smiled at the memory. That usually led to wrestling of one kind or another, when it didn’t lead to an asthma attack. He’d hated those moments, watching Steve fight to pull in each breath as hard and as strong as he’d fight any bully. But Steve hated it when Bucky went easy on him. 

The wind blew in through the empty hole where the window had been, sneaking its cold fingers through the seams in his coat and pants. Steve did that to him too, back in their apartment in Brooklyn. The little punk would do it deliberately, whenever Bucky came in from a late night. Every time Bucky finally managed to crawl into the blankets for a few hours of sleep, Steve would stick those cold fingers and feet right up against Bucky’s stomach or thighs. Bucky complained, of course, but truth be told, having another body under the blankets meant they both slept warmer, for more reasons than one.

Bucky pulled his coat closer, and wished desperately he could smoke a cigarette, but he couldn’t chance the glowing ember alerting the enemy. He called up memories of making coffee on their tiny stove, and bringing mugs back to the bed. Steve would be sitting up, wrapped in the blankets like a picture of an Indian chief Bucky had seen in a book in school. Steve would scoot over and lift one arm, reaching up to lay the blanket over Bucky as he sat down on the bed and handed over one of the mugs. They’d sit in their blanket, huddled together over their mugs of cheap coffee and talk about their plans for when things were better.

Some mornings, Bucky would be able to convince Steve to lie back down, in a tangle of blankets and limbs and desire. For a few moments, the delicious torment of fingers sliding over sweat soaked bodies, the mutual lust, breathy whispers and muffled gasps, let them ignore the harsh realities of life waiting outside their apartment. 

They’d always slept in the same bed as kids, whenever Steve’s mom had to work night shifts at the hospital and the Barnes family took him in for the night. At first it'd been just because Bucky got alarmed at how much Steve’s thin frame would shake from the cold. Later they'd pulled the blankets over their heads and used a flashlight to illuminate books or toy soldiers as they built their own secret worlds together. 

Somewhere in their teens, playing with toys had turned to soft touches, hesitant explorations of hard, lean bodies. Hands and mouths and tongues had ghosted over each other’s skin, and had led to frantic grasping and thrusting and heat. Bucky knew the rest of the world said that what they did was sordid and dirty, but to him, it had always felt like safety and warmth. _Steve_ had always felt like those things: Security and comfort; his pleasure and desire and lust; friendship and understanding deeper than anything he'd ever known. Even here, where he depended on his boys to watch his back and keep him alive, he’d still never found anything like what he had with Steve. 

Bucky felt like he was a million miles away from those memories, like he might as well be on a different planet. He missed Steve like a physical pain. The other boys talked about heartache, but for Bucky it was like some part of him had been hacked off. He never talked about it with the other soldiers because he couldn't talk about Steve like that and love was one of those things that you didn’t talk about anyway. But he was convinced that he was going to die out here, that he’d never make it back to the Brooklyn of his memories. 

But because of what he was doing, Steve was safe. That was almost enough to make it worthwhile. Hell, he’d give his left arm to just see Steve again, one more time, but it was worth it to know that Steve was safe back home. Bucky sent him all of his pay, so between only having to pay the bills for one person and getting two incomes, Steve should have enough to eat and to keep the place warm. Hell, maybe he’d managed to get another apartment, one where the wind didn’t push through the chinks in the wall and leak around the rotten frames in the windows. 

Of course, the punk was still probably picking fights with every bully left in the borough, but maybe now the girls would finally see him for the hero he was. Maybe he’d find some girl, some spitfire with as much courage and gumption as he had. Maybe they’d settle down and Steve would have a good job, one that kept him inside and out of the cold. Maybe they’d have kids and live in some brownstone, and Steve would tell them stories of his friend Bucky, who’d gone off to fight in the war. That was what Steve deserved.

But here and now, in Bucky’s memories, Steve was all his. 

Bucky pulled his memories close around, and dreamed of love and warmth.

**Author's Note:**

> This fills the "Hypothermia" square of my H/C bingo card
> 
> Come visit me on [tumblr!](http://shazrolane.tumblr.com/)


End file.
